


Dance With Me

by angelprototype



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Enchanted Forest (Once Upon a Time), F/F, Fluff, Knight Emma Swan, One Shot, Writing Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26512516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelprototype/pseuds/angelprototype
Summary: “Come now, knight. Would it kill you to relax a little?” Regina teased, coming to stand before her guard.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 202





	Dance With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I whipped up for the Facebook group "Swan Queen Fanfiction". Please enjoy.

**Based off the following prompt from Facebook's "Swan Queen Fanfiction" Group:**

**“Would it kill you to relax? The monarch teased their guard.**

**“Probably,” the guard replied. “Likely it would kill you too. That’s rather the point.”**

**A smile flashed across the monarch’s face. “I’ll risk it,” they said, and held out a hand. “Dance with me.”**

**_____________________________________________________________________________**

Another night, another ball, another drab evening watching royals (half of which she couldn’t even name) drink all of her wine and drunkenly throw themselves about. In all honesty, Regina couldn’t even begin to bother herself with remembering which princess’s birthday it was this time, or which kingdom was celebrating the birth of their newborn.

It wasn’t her birthday, and she sure _as hell_ didn’t pop out a child recently (thank you, Cora), so why bother? All she needed to bother herself with was making the locals happy and that seemed to be working out just fine.

One local, however, remained as stoic and still as a statue as ever. One might not have even given her a second glance if not for the minute shuffling ever so often.

Chainmail wasn’t exactly subtle.

The younger woman had been in the Evil Queen’s guard now for about a year. At only twenty-eight years of age, Regina laughed, _outright cackled_ in the blonde’s face when the blonde demanded to become part of the Queen’s army. She, like many others, were brought in originally as prisoners of war. Most were executed, others spared depending upon their skillset. When the woman muscled her way through four leather-clad guards and stood tall in the face of the Evil Queen, Regina’s stomach fluttered in… anticipation? Excitement? Regardless, the brunette couldn’t keep the smirk from stretching across her face.

No one, _no one_ had ever _dared_ stand before the Queen with such defiance. No… that wasn’t right. It wasn’t so much defiance as it was confidence. This commoner, this _plebian_ was demanding a spot in her guard, her _personal_ guard.

This would prove to be interesting.

“And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?” Regina drawled, eyebrow lifting, the amusement clear in her voice.

The blonde stood tall. “Emma, your majesty.”

And with determination lighting the woman’s eyes, who was Regina to deny such eagerness?

Besides, she was quite the specimen; long, golden hair, all lithe and lean muscle… And if she _did_ happen to betray her? Well, that was easily remedied with a swift swing of her blade or flick of a wrist.

Weeks had gone by and the blonde proved her worth, outperforming several of the men within her rank. Those weeks of bravado turned into months of honed skill and loyalty and soon enough Emma had wormed her way along Regina’s side as a permanent fixture (as well as her front, behind, sometimes even along the walls… but I digress).

And so we find ourselves back at the ball, where the soft sound of metal clinking together draws the queen’s gaze to the blonde woman beside her. With an over exaggerated sigh, Regina leans back further on her throne, one elbow resting on the armrest and gingerly holding a glass of wine, the other haphazardly laying over the other side of the chair.

Emma stilled, eyes glancing to her side where Regina practically lounged like a cat and as noticeably bored as one. Regina caught her guard’s stare, a playful smirk curling her lips as she lifted her glass and took a sip of wine. Emma inhaled sharply as the queen, clearly putting on a show, darted her tongue out to lick the remains of her drink from glistening lips.

Emma swallowed. Hard.

Grin never faltering, Regina purred. “Mm, _delicious_.” She sat the goblet back on the side table and stood. Sea green eyes followed the movement but Emma remained at attention. So what if the hands resting on the pommel of her sword tightened to a death grip when Regina leisurely stretched, back arched and chest out for the whole kingdom to gawk at.

 _Because they’re not_ for _the kingdom to gawk at, damn it. She just_ had _to wear that red dress…_

A soft chuckle brought Emma’s attention back to her queen’s eyes giving her a knowing look, a warm blush colouring her cheeks.

_Shit. Caught._

“Come now, knight. Would it kill you to relax a little?” Regina teased, coming to stand before her guard.

A blonde brow rose at the question, Emma’s brain working to come up with some witty retort before she settled on straight up bluntness. “Probably,” the guard replied. “Likely it would kill you too. That’s rather the point, isn’t it? I relax, some charming, baby-faced noble comes and slips something into your drink without my noticing...”

“Baby-faced noble, hm? That does sound rather tempting.” Regina laughs at the sudden scowl marring Emma’s face. “It was a joke, dear,” she says, holding out a hand. “I’ll risk it. Dance with me.”

Emma blinked. “Reg—“ she stutters, catching herself, “your majesty?”

The brunette rolls her eyes, hands resting on top of her guard’s on the sword as she leans in, lips but a breath away. “Please, Emma. Do you honestly think I care if these _peasants_ find out I’m bedding one of my guards?”

The blonde’s face slackens, the scent of sweet apple wine tickling her nose. “’Bedding one of your guards’? That’s… that’s what this—“

Regina lifts a finger to Emma’s lips, silencing her. Her voice grows softer, fonder, as she speaks only for the woman before her. “No, my love. You know that’s not all this is.” Dark eyes flutter from Emma’s to her parted lips and back again. “But that’s what they’ll see. That’s all they ever see. The Evil Queen can’t love, only conquer.” Regina puts some space between them then, jaw clenched and eyes hardening. “Because who would believe the Evil Queen capable of anything other than hatred?” She lets out a bitter laugh, mood officially soured by her melancholic thoughts.

But Emma knows Regina. Knew from the moment they met when she was given a second chance at life instead of being sent straight to the gallows that there was more to the so-called Evil Queen than death and destruction. She knew there was something more when the queen began asking for her personally during court sessions and meetings with the nobles.

She knew when Regina kissed her months later under her late father’s apple tree, whispering sweet words against her lips about “true love” and “soulmates,” and Emma kissed her back with declarations of devotion.

And she knows now, standing before her queen who looks so defeated, so dejected by her peers that if she truly _were_ evil, she would not look this distraught over rumors and anecdotes.

Emma smiles then, lifting her sword to carefully sheath it at her side. She removes her gauntlets, setting them on the table beside Regina’s forgotten wine and takes a step forward, closing the distance between herself and the queen. Regina doesn’t look up until Emma’s calloused, warm palm cups her cheek and tilts her head up ever so slightly so she can see the love and affection shining in green eyes.

“I love you. I will always love you until my last breath.” Emma ducks her head so their foreheads brush together. “And I know you love me. Damn whoever tries to say otherwise.” She places a chaste kiss to the queen’s lips. “Honestly, Regina,” Emma starts in jest, doing her best to mimic Regina’s earlier words, “do you think I care if these _peasants_ find out I’m bedding the so-called Evil Queen?”

The older woman huffs, sounding much like a scolded child as she leans into the blonde’s touch. “Are you questioning my merit, knight?” Regina teases. “Because you clearly have _no_ idea what I’m capable of.”

Emma chuckles, hands going to Regina’s waist as she begins to gently sway them to the tune resonating from the violin in the background. “Never, my queen.”


End file.
